


Ab Astris

by Angel_Bazethiel



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Space, Canon-Typical Mood Whiplash, F/M, Gen, I invoke the tag:, Parallel Universes, Post-Promised Day, Science Fiction & Fantasy, lmao one moment they're being idiots and the next someone is dying sksksk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Bazethiel/pseuds/Angel_Bazethiel
Summary: In the year 2462, Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye of the ISS Vesta Station falls into a black hole. She awakes to find herself in a world where magic — curiously calledalchemy— is real. Everyone says it's 1915 and that she and her crew just fought against immortal beings and won.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Team Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	Ab Astris

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, my dudes! I have wanted to do a story w/ the premise "AU!Character falls into a black hole and emerges to Canon!Universe" _for years._ Nothing seemed to fit with what I had thought of. Until FMA. It has the perfect balance between magic and science that I can work with it. Then this just wanted out. So here ya go. Enjoy :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, ISS isn't a typo. In this 'verse it means Interstellar Space Ship. Yeah. (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye wakes up to the sound of sirens and flashing red lights.

 _Dammit, Havoc_ , she thinks. _If there’s a fire because of his stupid cigarettes again…_

She groans and rolls over to the other side of her bed. She expects to hit her husband and has every intention of burying her face in the crook of his neck and go back to sleep. The rest of the crew can put out the fire themselves.

Instead, she’s met with cold air and even colder sheets. Riza blearily opens an eye and pats the space beside her. Her waking brain catches up faster and she realizes that, indeed, Roy Mustang isn’t there.

Riza sighs. She calls out to the room, “Vato, can you please locate the colonel?”

“He’s in the mess hall, Lieutenant,” a disembodied voice answers. “Together with Lieutenants Havoc and Breda.”

She lies face down on her pillow and says with a muffled voice, “Please tell me that he’s there to contain whatever the problem is and not because he’s the cause of it.”

“Er,” his voice glitches for a second, “Forgive me, Lieutenant. But my coding restricts me from lying when giving reports.”

“ _Dammit_ ,” she curses aloud. She begrudgingly gets out of bed and starts to get dressed. “What did they do?” She asks the FALMAN unit as she puts on her blue coveralls over her black shirt and pants.

“Lieutenant Havoc challenged the colonel in a cook-off and Lieutenant Breda was to be the judge.”

She rolls her eyes and walks out of the room. “Do I even want to know why?”

“Lieutenant Havoc offhandedly stated that chemists are just glorified chefs and that anybody can – and I quote – ‘mix-match potions like the witches they are.’ The colonel heard him and retaliated that at least chemists can cook. ‘What can _engineers_ even do?’ he asked and then, well… you know how that escalates every time, ma’am.”

Riza rolls her eyes again, with an exasperated sigh this time. In her university years, there had been a friendly rivalry between science and engineering students. Roy used to participate in campus-wide prank wars.

He even led one once when he learned that the person that took the last spinach quiche in a café he frequented was a civil engineering student. She smiles a bit at the memory. They’re very good friends now but Roy and Maes had been relentless when it comes to annoying each other.

A yell and the smell of smoke brings her back to the present. She scowls.

With closed eyes, Hawkeye rubs the skin between her eyebrows. One would think that such immaturity doesn’t exist among grown men, especially those with a military background. But the past 438 rotations of their three-year mission have been filled with ludicrous competitions among the crew.

It’s usually between Breda and Havoc. But, now and then, the colonel joins in or they manage to strongarm Fuery. And, _occasionally_ , she participates too. They have to find a way to amuse themselves unless they want to go stir-crazy with the endless staring at the black hole they’re orbiting.

However, the lieutenant draws the line when one of the very few times she’s allowed to sleep in is interrupted.

She enters the mess hall and sees her colonel drenched, Havoc aggressively stomping on his shirt, Breda laughing his ass off, and two pans on fire.

The lieutenant crosses her arms and clears her throat. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, fear evident in their wide eyes.

She raises an eyebrow, then uncrosses her arms with a huff through her nose. In three forceful strides, she reaches the stove, turns it off, and puts a lid on each of the pans. The spread flames get a handful of sand thrown on them. She has never been so thankful that she keeps sandbags in the kitchen too.

“He-ey, Lieutenant,” the colonel finally breaks the silence. “We thought we could cook our meals today.”

“What were you even trying to do, sir?”

“Just… some pasta.”

Hawkeye gives him an unamused look, “I don’t recall a methodology such as this in any pasta cooking recipe I know.”

Roy holds his hands up, “It wasn’t my fault. Jean’s towel got caught on fire on the stove and he panicked. Thrashed around like a little bi- _baby_.” Breda snorts. The colonel can be such a foul-mouth at times, so the crew has an ongoing bet wherein he can’t say a swear word for a week.

He narrows his eyes at Heymans before continuing, “I went to get water as the fire got to _everywhere_. In the chaos, someone knocked me over and the water I got spilled on me. Heymans was having the time of his life. And… well, here we are.”

“You got water for a grease fire, sir?”

“I got water for a _Havoc fire_ , Lieutenant. The food and other sh-stuff were supposed to be _not_ on fire.”

She glares at him and turns to Jean, “Second Lieutenant Havoc, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I apologize for panicking, ma’am.”

“And Lieutenant Breda?”

“I should have turned off the stove as soon as possible.”

Riza does her best not to feel too much pride in how she can make someone as tall as Havoc or someone as big as Breda turn into admonished little boys.

She keeps a straight face when she orders them, “You three will clean this up. Lieutenant Breda, you can prepare our meals. While you two,” she almost laughs at the way the colonel and Havoc jumps, “will relieve Officer Fuery and take the rest of his shift.”

“But it’s our free day, Riza.” Her husband – her _commanding officer_ – whines. “I don’t want to spend it by looking at screens of numbers.”

“You should have thought of that before provoking Havoc, sir.”

She turns to the coffee machine and pours herself a cup. With one last look over her shoulder, she says, “I’d be at my lab if anyone needs me.” And leaves the three men to their duties.

\--

It _is_ supposed to be her day off but Riza continues her work instead. She wanted to spend the day reading something else other than reports or scientific journals. But without the presence of her husband, their room feels a little bleak. And she can’t bring herself to pick up the novel she’s planned on reading.

She could accompany him and Havoc in the observation deck but the surveillance duty is meant to be a punishment. With her there, Roy would probably do whatever he can to talk himself out of it. And she would most likely concede. It wouldn’t be fair to Havoc.

So, she does her work. And upon doing it, she realizes that one of the exterior sensors on the Xing Aerospace Exploration Agency Arm has been misaligned.

Hawkeye makes her way to Airlock 4. She _could_ have Vato correct it but prepping a probe would be much more of a hassle than prepping herself. Besides, she doesn’t have anything better to do.

The lieutenant arrives at Module XI-09 and suits up. She was about to enter Airlock 4 when the whole station trembles and she’s thrown to the side. Good thing she’s all suited up because the module starts to depressurize.

Riza holds on for dear life but she doesn’t need to because she stays flat on her stomach. It’s as if there’s a great weight pressing down her back. With great difficulty, she sits up and surveys her surroundings.

Module XI-10 looks like a storm raged on it. Scraps of metal creak and groan. Sparks fly at the end of torn cables. There appears to be a wide gash along half of the module.

“Everyone okay?” The colonel’s voice blares out on the intercom. The crew answers one-by-one while Riza tries to get herself off the floor. She steadies herself, leaning on the door to XI-08. The lieutenant pushes her radio’s call button and hopes that her impact hasn’t damaged it.

Relief blooms in her chest when she connects. “I’m here, sir,” she assures Roy.

“Everyone’s accounted for. That’s great. Now, what was that?”

“A shockwave from a nearby supernova, sir,” Vato answers.

“There aren’t supposed to be any supernovas in this cluster for the next decade.”

“Indeed, sir. However, I am detecting a spike in background radiation – small and almost unnoticeable, considering it might have originated from somewhere far away. It could have had jumpstarted one, sir.”

The colonel lets out a frustrated noise. “Okay. Sitrep.”

“The Central Ring remains intact as the Arms have protected it. The Dracosmos Arm took the least damage. Its overall hull integrity goes steady at 96%. The CNSA Arm’s is at 91%. The ASA Arm’s is at 89%. The XAXA Arm’s is at 56% and falling.

“An asteroid collided with Module XI-10 and it as well as three other modules attached to it have depressurized. The wave also made the Vesta spin faster by 139.77%. The torque will have pulled us off-orbit in about 12 minutes, sir.”

Over two minutes pass as they think over their best course of action. Then Mustang decides, “Alright. We’ll jettison the most badly damaged modules. The opposing force should slow down the spinning. Lieutenant Hawkeye, report at Central.”

Her throat constricts as Riza looks at the door beside her. “I… can’t, sir.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“The emergency protocols have the connecting door between XI-09 and XI-08 sealed close, sir.”

“God— _fuck_.” Roy expels a shuddering breath. “What the fuck are you fucking doing there, Hawkeye? I thought you were at goddamn DMC-04.”

“I was going to do a routine spacewalk, sir.” _I was doing my job unlike some,_ she wants to joke, to make light of the situation. But they don’t have the time. And as much as she hates to hear the panic in his voice, she has to make him face reality.

He clicks his tongue. “Fine. Okay. We’ll detach AS-09 instead.”

“Sir,” Vato interjects, “perhaps I haven’t shown you clearly—”

“I understand what you’re saying, Vato. And I’m saying no.”

Hawkeye glances back at XI-10. She studies it again, hoping that maybe her assessment was wrong. “The Xingese Arm is being pulled by the spin and overhanging debris, isn’t it, Vato?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And even if we slowed down the spinning, it would still rip apart the whole Arm.” And that could cause irreparable damage to the Vesta. It would give way to a whole set of new problems.

It has to be XI-09. He has to maroon her in deep space so that the crew could live. Riza bites her lip, hard enough to draw blood. She racks her brain for some magical answer. An idea hits her. “Vato, can you time the jettison so that the modules are traveling towards the black hole?”

“Fucking shit, Riza!” Roy exclaims. “Are you seriously thinking about this?”

“Either way, I would still be propelled along with the modules, sir. If I try to go out at this angular velocity, then I would be hurled towards open space faster than you can say another ‘fuck.’ Besides, I have a plan, sir.”

The colonel chuckles, hollow and defeated. “Of course, you do.”

Riza smiles in spite of herself. She relays her plan, “I will boost myself out the module when I’m close enough to do a gravity assist maneuver and slingshot myself back to the Vesta. Vato can map my trajectory and calculate my travel time. Spacetime should be warped enough to give you the time to get ready to catch me, sir.”

He becomes quiet for so long that Riza fears that she lost contact. The prickling static doesn’t help calm her nerves. Finally, he asks, “Vato, what is the possibility that it would work?”

“About 1.57%, sir.”

“And we’ve done miracles with odds less than that.” She insists because this is _their_ _best chance_. The lieutenant will not have him risk the whole crew just because he doesn’t believe she can pull it off. “It _will_ work.”

“And if it doesn’t?” He asks softly.

Riza wets her lips and swallows the lump forming in her throat. She will not cry. At least, not yet. “Then you’re going to be okay, Colonel. You have to be.”

A beat passes and then another. And then—

“Alright, Lieutenant. Goodluck.”

“You too, sir.”

They don’t say anything else. They don’t have to because it will work and they will see each other again. They can say whatever the hell they want then.

The lieutenant cuts off all communications to the crew. She can’t afford any distractions, not when there’s no room for error. She starts the jettison procedures. Riza closes her eyes, breathes in for four seconds and lets it out for another four.

Together with Vato, she counts every second down as she approaches the hole in XI-10. Then, the modules are flung across space. They slightly turn so she climbs out the module to position herself in the way she wants to be oriented.

Just before she enters the ergosphere, she kicks as hard as she can. However, she hits a loose metal piece and doesn’t gain enough momentum. _Shit_ , she thinks. Her limbs involuntarily flail as panic chills her bones for a second. A hopeful thought comes to mind that maybe it’s enough, and she lets out all the pressurized gas of her thrusters. But even then, she doesn’t achieve the velocity she wants.

Riza lets out a choked laugh as gravity latches on her with greedy but gentle hands. She hates that she has to slowly orbit the black hole before finally entering the event horizon. She hates that the universe has to prolong the inevitable.

Her tears don’t fall. They clump into two huge elongated spheroids on her eyes, tethered to her while they reach out to her doom. She blinks rapidly and shakes her head, desperate to get them off of her face.

 _I’m so sorry, Roy_. A whisper of the heart she hopes that would reach him. She repeats it, again and again, in-time of her pulse roaring in her ears. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_.

Riza’s vision clears. She sees the whole of the universe in a single view. Multitudes of stars shine so closely together. They make the dark, cold void look bright and warm.

Her last thought – right after she thinks that at least death itself will be painless and fast – is how it reminds her of Sunday mornings spent in bed with her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I kinda based the Vesta on the space stations in [1] the video game _[Observation](https://observationgame.com/)_ and [2] the podcast _[Wolf 359](https://www.wolf359.fm/)_. Go check those babies out ;D
> 
> Anybody else wants more FMA in **SPACE**? Yeah, me too. I mean. I have the world built for the AU and such. I just dunno the _story_ yet hhhhhh

**Author's Note:**

> (」°ロ°)」


End file.
